


In Health

by Msynergy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msynergy/pseuds/Msynergy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any story that began with “Hold my ale, and watch this,” was not meant to end well, but that hadn’t stopped Varric from trying to demonstrate his rogue abilities in a crowded Orlesian pub.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Satine86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/gifts).



> And here we are! The official sequel to “In Sickness,” because it just wasn’t fair that only Josie’s romance got a duel. ;) Also, definitely inspired by Firefly’s “Shindig,” so if you see similarities that’s why.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.

Any story that began with “Hold my ale, and watch this,” was not meant to end well, but that hadn’t stopped Varric from trying to demonstrate his rogue abilities in a crowded Orlesian pub.

One less enjoyable part of remaining in an Inquisition after their nemesis was defeated was the clean up. Multiple rifts remained open throughout Thedas, and Evie had to close them all. They could not weave through countries with impunity like in wartime, however, so a stay over in Val Royeaux was required on their way back to Skyhold. The Inquisitor already had dinner plans from weeks ago thanks to Josephine, which left the rest of them to enjoy the finery of the city while they waited for her return.

This finery, with the likes of Bull and Sera in company, included copious amounts of alcohol at the luxurious inn the Inquisition’s clout had paid for. Usually their antics would have Cassandra removing herself quickly to a darker corner of the tavern, but Varric’s hand was warm in hers, his smile bright, and the wine in her own glass left her blood singing, so she stayed.

“Hey, Varric! Are dwarf rogues common?” Bull asked over the din, the cushioned bench he sat on groaning under his weight as he leaned back, already far into his cups.

“He’s a bit square ain’t ‘e? Bit like a boulder. I can never figure ‘ow ‘e jumps like ‘e does. Know what I mean?” Sera giggled into her ale.

Varric rolled his eyes, grinning, “No need to be jealous, Sera. I can jump higher because I’m stronger.”

The elf snorted, “As if! ‘Sides, strength’s only as good as long as you sustain it!”

“Oh, I think I smell a bet,” Bull slammed his tankard down, making their own cups rattle.

“A bet?” Cassandra chose to speak up then, eyes narrowing. She’d seen enough results of the Chargers’ bets before to foresee trouble. The last time Sera had lost to them she’d had to march about Skyhold in her small clothes, but she’d purposefully forfeited her breast band and scandalized a few choice nobles that still wouldn’t speak to Josie. The Inquisition didn’t need another national incident, much less in Val Royeaux.

“Now, now, Seeker. If your dwarf loses he’ll keep his clothes, don’t you worry,” Bull grinned, and she started. Former spy or no, the Qunari still had a disconcerting knack for reading people, even herself.

“Can’t say she’d mind it though if he did, eh, Cassandra?” Sera winked, “How is ‘e anyway? Never had dwarf meself.”

She stilled, a blush creeping up her face that she couldn’t hide, when Varric squeezed her hand under the table, reassuring.

Dorian may have had them rutting in every dark corner in Skyhold long before they actually began a more intimate relationship, but such intimacy had not reached past a heated kiss or tender embrace yet since she’d fallen ill a month past. Varric called it “taking things slow,” and she’d been appreciative of his patience, but despite managing to keep their private affairs private, the assumption of many that they’d already crossed that line some time ago still irked her.

“Alright, alright, what’s this bet, Bull?” Varric replied.

A large thumb and forefinger scratching at his chin as he considered the stakes, The Iron Bull finally nodded to himself, and spoke:

“Here’s the play. You hold a handstand for a whole minute, but you got to do it one handed. Thirty seconds right, thirty seconds left. If you win, the Chargers pay the tab for a nice getaway for you and the Seeker. If you lose, you’re the Chargers’ barmaid for a month. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Varric’s hand was in Bull’s before she could stop him, and Cassandra groaned as he stood.

“Don’t worry, Seeker,” he pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling, “You deserve a holiday, and I’m gonna win us one.”

“‘Atta boy, Tethras!” Sera crowed, and Cassandra watched as Varric shoved his pint in Bull’s direction.

“Hold my ale, and watch this!”

She knew the sight and strength of those arms from when he’d held her close, but Cassandra couldn’t help but admire how easily Varric positioned himself in a handstand, and shifted to one arm.

“Counting down now!” Bull announced.

The first thirty seconds flew by with out a hitch, but as Varric moved to his other arm, he overbalanced, and the ale he’d consumed and gravity did the rest.

His boots came down hard on another patron as he fell, and she was already up and helping him when the victim whirled on his heel, staring down at them both.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

They righted themselves, and Cassandra drew upon what little diplomatic skill she retained.

“We are deeply sorry, Monsieur. My companion has had too much to drink, we will return to our rooms shortly.”

Varric touched her hand where it lay on his shoulder, his gaze proud and loving. She couldn’t help the small smile that graced her features before looking to the other man and bowing slightly before turning them both back to their table. Varric had not won the bet, which meant he would serve the Chargers’ for a month. She supposed she’d have to visit the Herald’s Rest more often–  

“Faithless Nevarrans! You’re laying with dwarves now? He’s so short I’m surprised you can find anything to prick you!”

Interrogated later by Josephine, Cassandra would deny any memory of how it truly happened.

Her fist connected hard and sure against the man’s face, her bare knuckles steel after years of combat. The Orlesian was propelled into a table that shattered under the force and his weight.

Bull and Sera were at her side in an instant as the noble’s cronies rushed forward, posturing as he was helped up.

Varric placed himself in front of her, shoulders tense and jaw clenched.

“Apologize,” he growled, “or are we gonna have a problem?”

“Oh Monsieur, we are far past mere problems,” the man spat, blood gushing from a split lip and nose, “I, Chevalier Philippe Belrose, accept your challenge, Lady Cassandra Pentaghast.”

Cassandra blinked; then bit her lip to stop from cursing violently. Of course, they weren’t in Skyhold. They were well-known inner circle members to the Inquisitor, and a barroom brawl had far more reaching implications in Val Royeaux.

She was going to pummel Bull with his “make things better” stick until he stopped moving when this was all over, but first she had to duel a Chevalier in defense of her and her beau’s honor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.

“Honestly, I’m impressed Cassandra. I thought it’d be Bull or Sera getting us in this kind of mess while I was gone.”

“Inquisitor, I’m well aware of the damage my actions have caused,” she sighed, plopping down on the edge of a bed far too lushly furnished for her taste.

Belrose had insisted they stay in his mansion so he could keep a watchful eye on her and her companions prior to the duel they’d scheduled for dawn. Not that she’d ever run from a fight.

Sera had offered to put an arrow through the man’s throat before he drew a sword against her, but Cassandra knew the Game too well, even if she hated participating. This Philippe wanted to make a name for himself, that much was certain. How better than to incite a challenge from the Hero of Orlais herself? If any of them were to interfere, it would be a mark against the Inquisition, and the Empress would have even more troubles than before concerning their alliance.

No, she would face the Chevalier, and she would win. For herself, for Varric, and for the Inquisition.

“I didn’t come here to make you feel worse,” Evie sat down beside her, “From what I’ve heard, this asshole deserved the punch.”

“Watch your words, Inquisitor,” Cassandra warned, if only half-heartedly, Evie had as much respect for the Game as she did, their mutual bluntness a cornerstone of their friendship, “The walls have ears in a place like this.”

The Inquisitor snorted, “You sound just like Leliana. She already knows about this by the way. I got a crow at supper. You should probably expect one as well.”

Cassandra groaned, flopping back onto the too fluffy mattress.

Evie laughed, always so carefree despite the responsibility on her shoulders.

“Don’t worry so much. According to our newly appointed Divine, this Philippe is a real over-reacher, and mediocre at swordplay. Taunt him and end him, then we can all go home.”

“I cannot kill him outright, even if I wish it. That is not how–”

“It’s done, yeah, yeah,” the Inquisitor waved, “But you can still make mincemeat out of him, and I won’t judge you. Now, I better get back to my room, and let you sleep.”

Evie patted her knee, a comfort, and stood.

Cassandra grasped her arm, “I’m sorry, Inquisitor. I was not thinking–”  

The woman covered her hand with her own.

“You were thinking of Varric, of what you have together. If some Orlesian sod had said the same about me and Cullen, he would have more than a split lip.”

The Seeker believed her, and released her grip.

“Thank you– Evie.”

She smiled, “You’re welcome, Cass. Sleep well.”

She nodded, and the Inquisitor let herself out.

Cassandra sighed, figuring she should see to her nightly routine, when a soft tap echoed from her chambers’ window.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.

“Varric?!”

It normally would have set her heart fluttering; the sight of him precariously perched on the trellis outside her room, that roguish smile in full view, but the Inquisitor had barely made it past the armed guard outside her door. If he was discovered–

“Hey, Seeker. You want to give me a hand or am I gonna have to sit out here all–”

“Just get in here!” she hissed, grasping his arm and practically lifting him over the small faux balcony.

“Alright, alright. Geez, Cassandra, if I’d known you needed me here that badly I’d have–” 

She kissed him, hard, an arm wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer.

He responded with equal fervor, gloveless hands cradling her face as his tongue found hers. She groaned, and he shivered.

“Cass–”

“Varric–”

She moved from his mouth to his stubble, kissing a line down his neck. He shiver became a shake.

“Seeker,” he pulled away, but moved his hands to her waist, “As much as I’m enjoying where this is going, you’ve got an Orlesian to beat to a bloody pulp tomorrow and–”

She sighed, pressing her forehead to his.

“Everyone is so sure I will win.”

“You don’t think you will?”

“I will. But I did not wish our – whatever we have, to be on display for all of Val Royeaux. I’m sorry I–”

“Seeker, if you say you’re sorry you punched that asshole, I will jump right back out that window.”

She pulled away, mouth agape.

“You heard me. You are one of the few people who has ever stuck up for me, and I came here to thank you for it.”

“Varric–”

“You’re taking a big chance, Seeker, being with a guy like me. I didn’t realize just how much of one until today. It’s easier in Skyhold, despite being an absolute rumor mill; all sorts rub elbows there no problem. But here, shitheads like this Philippe think they can say whatever they want about something they’ll never understand with no consequence. You made him think twice, because of me. Even if he only wanted to goad you for a chance at more status from a duel, you didn’t back down, and it– it means a lot, and–”    

“Varric,” she pressed a finger to his lips, smiling as he kissed the digit, “Whatever chance I might take, I take knowing the rewards far outweigh any risk, including dueling Orlesian nobles. I value your– your affections, I would not see anyone try to besmirch them or you.”

She’d almost said _love_ , and it shocked her despite her calm outward appearance. They had not attached names or titles to whatever they had, yet what she felt, what she thought she felt, what she hoped he felt–

His lips were tender against hers, and Cassandra felt her knees wobble despite herself. Exhaustion, she decided, was the only real cause. They had been on the road for the entire day before making it to the inn, then all this nonsense with the Chevalier had started and–

“Cassandra?”

No man, dwarf or otherwise, should wield the power to send chills down her spine with just his voice, yet there she was.

“Hm?”

“It’s late. I’ve kept you far too long.”

He could keep her as long as he wanted, she decided, and felt her skin flush when his brows met his hairline. Maker’s breath, had she just spoken those words out loud?

“Your secret is safe with me, Seeker,” he smiled, a mix of roguishness and adoration that made her knees quiver anew.

She blamed that smile for what she said next.

“Stay.”

“Stay? In case you haven’t noticed, Cassandra, you’re under lock and key here. I’m amazed those guards haven’t checked in on you yet. If I stay and they catch us–”

“I’ll protect you.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. But–”

“Varric, it has been a long day. I would have you sleeping by my side at least until first light. You are a rogue who is particularly good at going unnoticed; none of the Chevalier’s men will know you were here. Now, please. Stay.”

He huffs, but she knew she had him when his eyes met hers. They’d not shared a bed since her illness, more out of sheer busyness than propriety. She’d wanted to of course, but a time had never appeared for her to properly broach the subject, so they’d gone their separate ways at night if they saw each other at all. It had not, however, been easy to forget how he felt so close, his arms tight around her and breath on her hair.

“Alright, Seeker, alright.”

If possible, he held her even closer that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.
> 
> A little fun before the fighting ensues. ;)

“Cass…”

Her nose wrinkled at the feel of stubble against her cheek, but sighed when familiar lips pressed against the corner of her mouth.

“I gotta go before they check in, try and get some more sleep.”

Varric’s voice was even gruffer with sleep, and it sent a thrill down her spine that she was still getting used to again after so long. The meaning of his words sank in after, however, and turning over in his arms she frowned, brushing aside the copper strands of hair that’d escaped from his tie in the night.

“It’s early yet.”

He caught her hand and placed another kiss on the inside of her wrist, smiling when she shivered.

“Believe me, Seeker, I would like nothing more than to stay, but I’ve caused enough trouble as it is. I don’t need to be making more when you’ve got a noble’s ass to kick soon.”

Cassandra smirked, feeling something coil tight and warm and low as he smiled back. A rogue to the very end. But he was her rogue now, and the thought combined with that smile made the glow she felt spike white-hot.

“What if I like your trouble?”

She kissed him before he could reply. 

He tasted of the ale he’d drunk the night before, but the stale bitterness was an afterthought when his tongue lapped hers, and she groaned, clumsily pushing on his shoulder until he lay flat and she swung a leg over his hips.

The longer tunic had been waiting for her behind the privacy screen, and since it’d been significantly cleaner than her camping nightwear, she’d worn it instead. But the wardrobe change now caught her limb, stopping her from straddling him fully, and she growled, pulling at the offending fabric until it bunched just above her knees.

Varric’s hands quickly engulfed the revealed flesh, squeezing as she shadowed his torso with hers, fingers weaving through his hair as her lips found his again for a crushing kiss.

All their encounters so far had gone no further than this point, and despite his grip she felt the tentativeness in his touch, ready for her to pull away. But in the night not yet dawn; between the Fade and Thedas, her reticence was as ethereal as the smoke from Chantry incense.

He was true and real and right, and in that moment she was ready to give herself fully to him, to what they had together.

Her hands moved from his face down his exposed chest, tracing the faint scar hidden by hair that her necklace had left not so long ago. He’d jokingly called it “her mark,” more than once, to which she’d rolled her eyes every time, but now the name stirred even more heat. Her hands moved lower still–

“Ah! Hey, easy Seeker,” he jerked, moving his own hands to cradle her face, “What’s the rush?”

He hadn’t yet lost the extra rasp in his voice, and she shivered, hips rolling of their own will.

“Shit–” he hissed, and she smiled, feeling him twitch beneath her.

“Lady Pentaghast? Are you awake?”

The call pierced through the hot haze in her brain, and they froze simultaneously.

“Lady Pentaghast?”

A knock accompanied the title this time, and they moved, fast.

“Shit!” He neatly lifted her off of him, scrambling for his boots and shirt as she pushed her tunic back down and scooted off the bed, smoothing down the blankets as best as she could.

“One moment!” she called back to the voice, turning to find Varric with a leg already over the balcony.

“Go!” she mouthed, waving her hand, but he motioned back, beckoning her closer.

She frowned, but walked up anyway. What could he possibly–

The second she was in reach he grasped her neck, pulling her down for a kiss that made her question her better judgment, and moan when he pulled away too soon.                    

“You did say you liked my trouble,” he winked, and was gone, down the trellis and into the predawn dark.

She bit her lip, holding back a curse or a squeal, she didn’t know which.

“Lady Pentaghast?” the door opened, the elf maid who’d shown her to her room the night before appeared, a full breakfast tray balanced on one arm.

“Compliments of Monsieur Belrose,” she explained, setting the tray on a nearby table, “Please eat, and when you are finished and dressed, Monsieur awaits your presence in the gardens. I will remain outside to accompany you when you are ready.”

She nodded, the elf vanished, and she stared at the small mountain of food left behind with no small amount of hunger, but ignored the feeling as she saw to her armor and bit off a piece of the remaining hardtack she still carried in her pack.

Passionate rendezvous with Varric or no, she was in this place for a reason, and while it waited to test her strength just beyond the door, the Game saw no reason why she could not be hindered before even reaching for a sword.

A discussion involving her forwardness this morning would have to wait, but judging by his reaction to her touch, she suspected he’d be very amiable to a change.

The question was, was she?

She had been burned before, and he had understood, and even shared his own scars though she had not asked. Those old wounds had slowly been fading under his words, his actions. Not gone, never gone, but more bittersweet memory than painful reminder. And now–

Her fingers touched where his lips had last met hers so thoroughly, and felt a flush on her neck, and…other places.

Yes, she was very amiable as well.

But first, she had a duel to win.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.
> 
> And here. We. Go.

Decision made, she choked down the rest of the hardtack, washed her face, and donned her road-worn armor.

The maid awaited her as promised, and she was led down one winding, luxurious hallway after another until they entered a lush garden space, with plenty of room in the center for a sword fight and her companions already waiting on the sidelines.

“C’mon, Cassandra! Stick him good!” Sera cheered upon spotting her from Bull’s shoulders, her arms leaning on his horns.

The Qunari himself had his arms folded across his massive chest, but shared a smile with her that she knew he only displayed when a good fight was about to ensue. The only people missing were–

Varric and Evie suddenly emerged from an opposite doorway, followed shortly after by Belrose and his staff.

They weren’t smiling, and upon finding Bull and Sera and exchanging whispers none of them looked cheerful, but before she could move to ask why another elf stood in her path, holding up a rapier resting upon a feather pillow.

“Your sword, My Lady,” he bowed.

She took it and he shuffled away, leaving her to eye her opponent as he brandished his own sword.

Belrose’s armor shone in the early sun, but she already counted several weak points. Her weak point was her sword itself. She could tell immediately the tang was off severely. She would not be able to use her full strength without breaking the blade.

Judging by the grin on the Chevalier’s face, he was well aware of this disadvantage.

“Are you ready to settle our dispute, Lady Pentaghast?”

Glancing at her companions, Varric’s eye caught hers, and he smiled, nodding. But something else remained in his gaze, a wariness. Whatever was going on, she needed to end this duel, and quickly.  

“If by settle, you mean finish for good when I spill your blood, then yes,” she shot back, shifting into a fighting stance. She felt slightly bereft without a shield, but made sure it didn’t show on her face as she stared him down.

“Or I spill yours first! En garde!”  
  
His first swing told her he wasn’t as slothful with a blade as he’d been perceived, but she was better. This fact flashed in the Chevalier’s eyes as panic, and she smirked.  
  
The duel had officially begun.  
  
For a time they traded blows, testing weaknesses and strengths, and she began to see him tire. He finally relented an opening, and she thrust, the inferior blade still sharp enough to slice past one of the weak points in his armor.  
  
Blood ran red and clear from his side as he gasped in pain, and the elf who’d given her the sword stepped between them quickly.  
  
“First blood has been spilled! Lady Pentaghast has won the duel! Further reconciliation will follow once wounds are tended!"  
  
Cheers could be heard from her side of the garden and she nodded approvingly, sticking her rapier in the ground and stepping back but still observing the Chevalier.  
  
A win or not, Leliana had taught her never to turn her back on an enemy in the Game.  
  
Because she was facing Belrose and his attendees, however, she did not see the threat from behind.  
  
“Seeker!”  
  
She was shoved to the ground hard by Varric’s weight as chaos reined.  
  
She made out Evie’s shout, Belrose’s bleat, Sera and Bull’s cursing, and the whistle of an arrow being shot in the cacophony, before all went still.  
  
Including–  
  
"Varric? Varric, get off of me–”  
  
No response, and she squirmed and rolled out from underneath them, a scathing retort on her lips. But it died there when she saw the dagger lodged in his back, a dark, sickening stain seeping through his clothes.  
  
“Varric!”  
  
Hands shook as she turned him on his side, desperately searching for a pulse and breath and equally terrified she would find neither.  
  
No, no, no! He would not be taken from her like this! She grit her teeth, blinking back the tears that dared surface, and almost lost control of them when she felt air puff from his nose and a heart beat under her fingers. But both signs of life were weak at best, and she looked up, eyes darting for help.  
  
“I need a healer! Now!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.
> 
> This one fought me for some reason. Hope you enjoy it despite my foibles.

His blood was on her hands, his life in the glowing fingers of the healer carrying him away with their assistants, and as she spotted Belrose near the edge of the garden, her own blood roared in her ears.

“Chevalier!”

The man shrunk back when she charged, but two massive hands grasped her arms before she could reach him.

“Release me!” she snarled, trying to yank herself from Bull’s grip.

“Cass,” Evie tried.

“You can judge me once I wring his neck! Now, let me go!”

“Cassandra, it wasn’t that git!” Sera shouted, directing her attention to the Red Jenny as she yanked an arrow out of the throat of their cloaked attacker.

“How do you know?”

“For one, the tosser right pissed himself when the dagger flew, and well, tell her Quizzy!”

Her gaze snapped back to Evelyn, searching, and the Inquisitor nodded to Bull to release her before handing over a small, folded piece of parchment. 

“I found this in my room this morning,” she explained as Cassandra tore open the note, eyes darting over the message.

“In your room?! Why wasn’t I–”

_A promise. The circle will be broken, the ruin of the Inquisition._

“The circle, as in–”

“Any of us. Belrose only had a problem with you. No gain in going after us all for him. Somebody just used this situation to take their first shot, and I doubt it will be the last attempt,” Bull growled, his lone eye glancing to where Varric had fallen.

“No kit on this shite either to tell us more,” Sera spat on the body, “Glad I hid my bow ‘fore everybody else got ‘ere.”

“I sent a crow to Josie as soon as I could, hence why I was late,” Evie explained further, “We should have more information soon.”

“Lady Inquisitor, please accept my sympathies at this turn of events. My healer is one of the best in Thedas, and any other resources I might provide are at your disposal while you seek out the perpetrators of this plot.”

“Seeing as it was your lack of diligence that put one of my most trusted companions in peril, I accept,” Evie glared, her Inquisitor persona in full force, “We will stay in the rooms you provided until either Master Tethras is well enough for travel or this situation is resolved. And, should any further attempts be made on our lives during our stay, I will hold you personally responsible. Understood?”

Belrose’s head bobbed, “I will see that my men double their guard duties.”

“Good. Now, where did they take him?”

“To his room, Lady Inquisitor,” the woman elf who’d shown Cassandra to the garden spoke up, “I can take you to him if you like?”

Evie nodded, “Lead the way.”

Bull and Sera tailed her close, but as Cassandra moved to follow, the fear of what she’d find at the end of that walk sparked her ire once more.

In one swift move she had the Chevalier by the neck, her eyes burning into his.

“You listen well, Belrose. If that dwarf does not survive, no power in all of Thedas will stop me from skinning you alive. Very. Slowly.”

A sharp, acidic scent made her nose twitch, and a glance down confirmed her suspicions as she shoved him away with a snarl.

He hadn’t pissed his armor like Sera had previously thought, because he was doing so now.

Turning back to see her companions waiting, Cassandra spared no second glance for her former opponent.

Whatever awaited them, a duel was now the least of her concerns.

_Maker, please, do not call him to your side yet._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.

He had stepped in front of a dagger meant for her, and she was sorely tempted to stab him herself when he woke.

Not if, but when, because she could not consider the alternative as they all waited outside the door to his room.

“Takin’ a while innit?” Sera broke the silence.

She stopped pacing, Evie glared, and Bull raised his brow. A beat, and the implications of her words caught up with the Red Jenny, leaving her to quickly backtrack.

“I mean, tough sod like him, he’s probably already patched up and chattin’ up the nurses.”

Cassandra raised her own brow at that, but left Sera in the hole she’d dug herself into. She was trying to help, to lighten the mood the only way she knew how. Before she could open her mouth and keep digging, however, the creak of a door redirected all attention, and it took all of Cassandra's willpower not to charge through the healer at the glimpse of the bed she caught past him and the assistants that filtered out after.

“How is he?” Evie asked for all of them, coming to stand beside her.

“He’s stable, for now, but–”

“But what?” Cassandra cut him off, stepping closer, bristling.

The balding, thin man took her in, swallowed hard, and stepped back before replying in a rush.

“The blade was poisoned, an extra precaution. The symptoms are starting to appear, and I do not recognize them. If we know its origin I could possibly developing an antidote, but as it stands–”

“How long?” She took another step, the fury was gone, zapped by the cold that now cracked through her blood.

“At the rate of progression I’m seeing, a few days at the most. I’m sorry, I know this was not what you wanted to hear–”

“May I see him?”

It was worded as a question, but the healer knew better than to refuse, and none of her companions chafed at the “I” instead of “we.”

Brushing past him and closing the door behind her, she turned to find Varric prostrate on the bed, and felt her heart drop into her stomach.

He was so still, and as she moved closer she feared he’d stopped breathing altogether. Only a hand on his bandaged back reassured her as she sat on the edge of the bed, but it was paltry relief at best. Red and a telling yellow stained the stark linen where the dagger had met his flesh, and the smell would have been enough to tell her of the tainted blade. Rot, killing him from the inside out.

The tears spiked her eyes, undeniable, and she leaned, pressing her face against his shoulder. This was worse than when she’d thought him finished by a dragon. He was here with her, hurting, dying, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“You fool of a dwarf, why did you do it?” She whispered against his skin, unable to stop the salted droplets that landed there.

Muscle moved under her lips, and she gasped as a large hand covered her knee.

“’S alright, S’ker. Don’t cry.”

“I will cry if I damn well please, Varric Tethras,” she snapped, the sting removed by the waver in her voice, the tender touch of her hand in his hair as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Mmm, ‘s nice,” he murmured, the no doubt concentrated pain killers ushering him back to blissful unconsciousness as his grip went slack on her leg.

She covered the hand with her own, head bent. Soon he would not wake up at all, and all because of–

“Cassandra!”

The door slammed open, and she spun in her seat, eyes seeking the intruder with scowl that would make lesser men shrivel. Unfortunately, her target was no man.

“What, Sera?! Can’t you see I'm–”

“We may have a lead to see ‘ole chest carpet up and snoggin’ you again! C’mon!”

Hope ignited, an ember so small, but she had fought harder with less. If there was _any_ chance, not even Andraste herself would stop her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.

Cassandra’s fingers gripped the hilt of her sword none too gently, jaw equally clenched as Evie worked on the masterwork lock keeping them from their goal.

Sera’s aim had been true, and her contacts even more so. The would-be assassin had skillfully crept into the Chevalier’s estate, but as his corpse cooled with the Red Jenny’s arrow lodged in his throat her network whispered his comings and goings faster than any crow could fly.

A local to Orlais, but not Val Royeaux, holed up in a less than savory part of the capitol on business that kept him up nights. He’d also visited a different house very near Belrose’s estate, and the decision to split up came to pass.

One warrior and rogue each, to cover more ground, to trace back the dead man connected to the note, to find the poison and save Varric, and end the threat to the Inquisition.

The plan was a sound one, but if it hadn’t been for their pressing time constraints Cassandra felt she likely would have been more perturbed at allowing the very recognizable Lady Inquisitor to accompany her on such a clandestine mission. But every second counted, and Evie was properly cloaked as she worked.

And finally, just as she was about to suggest she kick in the whole door, element of surprise be damned, the lock clicked open.

The Seeker sprang like a bear trap.

“Cass– wait!”

She felt the wire on her leg just as Evie spoke, and felt a strong hand grip the neck of her chest plate and yank back, hard.

A mace swung hard on a chain where her head had just been, and a large breath left her lungs.

_Too brash._

“Alright?”

Evie released her grip, too knowing eyes looking her over.

“Yes.”

“Bullshit. But I’ll let it slide for now because Varric’s more important. C’mon. Let’s see if that shit stain left us anything to go on. Watch your step, yeah?”

She nodded, and they stepped into the decrepit house with sword and bow drawn as extra precautions.

But the first trap appeared to be the last, and nothing stood out as useful in the shack that had been so carefully locked up.

A bed, a desk, an empty chest, and little else. Nothing like what Belrose’s healer needed to save Varric, if it had ever resided in the place at all.

It was all she could do not to ram her sword into the bed in frustration.

“Hey, maybe Sera and Bull found something? We should head back and check in. Getting close to the rendezvous time anyway.”

The Inquisitor’s suggestion made sense, but all she could hear was the sound of sand through an hourglass in the back of her head. Every grain that passed he slipped further from her, and it was all she could do to stay focused as the sound grew louder and louder with her fear.

“Cassandra?” Evie placed a hand on her arm, snatching back her attention, “Breathe. He’s not gone yet, we will find what we need.”

If the Inquisitor could read her mind, she never showed it, but Cassandra felt considerably calmer upon exiting the house than when she’d entered it. She supposed that was a large part of why they’d named the rogue middle-daughter of House Trevelyan Inquisitor in the first place. She possessed a knack for reading people that could not be taught, and it had saved them time and time again. The Seeker would trust in this fact, for the time being. 

* * *

 

They found only Sera waiting for them just near the entrance to Belrose’s home, and she smiled at their confused faces.

“No luck, eh? No worries yet, Bull ‘n me got something for you. C’mon,” she gestured, and lead them back to the house she and the Charger’s leader had been sent to investigate.

“Just in here,” the Red Jenny pushed open one of the two large doors, waving them in.

When Cassandra’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of a lone candle in the foyer, she suddenly understood Sera’s excitement.

Their search had proven fruitful, and a bound and bloodied man rested on his knees before them. Bull loomed behind him, arms crossed with a glint in his lone eye. The very Qunari-fist-sized bruise forming on the captive’s face was likely the reason for it.

“Now,” Sera spoke up, and the man flinched, “Why don’t ya tell our friends what you told us?”

“I keep telling you, I don’t know anything–”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what you keep saying, but you see, the thing is we don’t believe you,” Bull cut him off, clapping his hand on the prisoner’s shoulder.

The blow pushed a breath from the man’s mouth, and Cassandra could practically taste the lyrium in the air. An addict then.

“Former Templar?” she queried.

“Yep,” Sera confirmed, “He did tell us the only reason he’s not red and spiky is they kicked him out on his arse before ‘ole Corypheshit showed up.”

“We also turned the rooms upside down,” Bull jumped in, “Found his stash and enough coin to keep me drunk for a month before he walked in on us.”

“And we found some coded notes. No time to crack’um, so we tried to crack him instead,” Sera finished, offering the small book to Evie.

But the man still wasn’t talking, and more sand slid down as the Inquisitor looked over the coded text. Cassandra’s hands made fists.

“Leave me alone with him.”

“What?” Evie frowned.

“I told you once what I was capable of as a Seeker. He will talk by the time I’m finished.”


End file.
